I'm okay in the dark
by CapturetheFinnick
Summary: This is from a prompt that has been written lots of times, but someone on tumblr asked me to write it and so I did; Dan gets drunk and accidentally climbs through the window of Phil's house, mistaking it for his friends. Phan. Fluff.


_**So yes this took a while to write because of computer crashes and lots of work and other complications but someone on tumblr asked me to write it so I did, hope you enjoy :) **_

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><p><strong>Prompt: "i accidentally broke into your houseapartment because my friend lives next door to you and i was in the area, drunk, and i thought i was climbing into the right window and falling asleep on the right couch (and i did wonder when my friend got two cats but i didn't question it) so now i'm hungover and shirtless in your living room so um hi howya doin". This is my favourite prompt and it will make my life if you do it please and thank you**

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><p>My head spins yet the music keeps banging, cutting through the darkness like scissors through silk, slicing through and into my ears. It doesn't feel like the darkness though, the darkness to me is a blanket of comfort or a layer of fear, but tonight it feels like neither of those, tonight it feels like just another person in the crowd, slipping through gaps in the throngs of people, hovering over conversations. Just another person drinking, just another person dancing.<p>

I bring the bottle to my lips, tipping the golden liquid down my throat. I feel it burn but I like it. Every time I open the gates, the party gets more rambunctious inside, every one jumping up and down in my stomach, it makes me want to dance too. I don't usually do parties, the forced conversations and over-crowded area not usually my thing but my friend has this guy that she liked who invited her here or said he was coming, or something. I don't know. I used to know, but right now all I know is the golden liquid and the darkness, all I know is that I want to dance.

My feet are jumping up and down, completely separate from the rest of my body as if they have a mind of their own. I'm not quite sure why but I like it, it fills me with exhilaration and thrill. A girl grabs my hand and I knot my fingers in hers, both of us jumping together. It is too dark to see her face, but the edge of her hair is caught in a shaft of moonlight from outside, hazed by drink. It feels as if the music is pumping through my very soul as I jump. I didn't expect to be here right now, I expected to be sat in the corner, desperately trying to connect to Wi-Fi whilst observing people like a scientist in a zoo. That's who I see myself as, that's the character I relate to in the films, not one of the ones drinking, not one of the one's jumping, and yet I am _actually _enjoying myself.

Music that I don't know fills my ears and I scream along, my feet in time with my screaming. It doesn't matter that I don't know the lyrics it doesn't matter that I don't know the beat; all that matters is the bass in my ears and my feet on the floor.

The golden liquid fills my stomach, making me feel dizzy, I stumble backwards, letting go of the girl's hand but she doesn't mind. But then my hand is falling free and I reach out, grabbing onto the mantelpiece to stop myself from falling. My hand connects with something and then it is on the floor, the echo of a small shatter in my brain. No one seems to notice, no one seems to care.

My head revolves, my thoughts jumbling inside, being twisted into different shapes. Suddenly I don't want to dance, I don't want to jump. Suddenly all I want is a mattress and a pillow. I step backwards but the crowd doesn't care, because it is not based on one person, it is not people counting, it's one large creature, everyone moving together, writhing rather scarily. And so when I step away, the beast doesn't mind; it just keeps on moving.

I stumble across the floor, tripping over empty bottles and plastic cups. I think if I could see it, I would see a wasteland, where parties come to die, but the darkness is hiding it from me. The darkness is my friend.

I reach the door and open it, the cold hair hitting me in the face like the back of a hand. It's colder than I thought. I feel a shiver go down my back, it scares me a little. The darkness has not followed me out here, someone has torn little holes in the blanket of the night, the streetlights piercing it and shattering it, illuminating tiny bits of the real world. I always hated street lights. I think if I had my coat I would wrap it closer round me now but I don't know where it is. I don't know where I am. Another gust of wind hits me, its fingers running through my hair, I shiver again. I want to cry.

I try and work out where I am but the houses are grey and tilted. Every so often a shaft of light is kindled in the bright artificial flame of the streetlight and I can see red-bricks. Through the grey fog, I can make out little houses side by side, complete with teeny trimmed hedges, if I squint hard enough. I give up, it looks like every other neighbourhood in Britain.

Without the darkness to cloak me I feel vulnerable and exposed, the shafts of light beginning to look like arms, stretching down to reach me and take me back to their lairs. I want the darkness back, the darkness is my friend.

As I walk, the music fades and soon it seems like it's just me in the whole world. I cry a little. It's a drunk cry, I tell myself. I have no idea how long I've been walking, every pavement is the same grey ribbon, every house the same square box, every streetlamp the same orange glow. I could be going in circles round the same estate for all I know. I begin to plan my funeral, how I will survive in the wild, what my final words will be, I know I am being melodramatic but it's only a bit of fun. At least I hope.

It's getting darker now, and my spirits are rising, it seems my old friend is here to greet me once more. I look up, the grey fog turning into a dark smudge, like someone's dragged their hand across wet ink. People seem to think there is no beauty in darkness, and yet here it is right in front of me, there's a beauty in everything. With the lights getting further away, I can see the stars more, their lights shining down on me, soothing me like a baby, telling me they will lead me home. The atmosphere is such a contrast from the party and yet I am the same, my mind still fuzzy and my body still stumbling. Doesn't mean I can't appreciate the beauty though.

I turn a corner and blunder down another street, there's something soothing about boundlessly walking, something about not knowing the direction that's oddly calming. And although I am lost in every sense of the word, I am actually happy for once. I look up, the streetlights reappearing now. Wait, I recognise this street? Cast in the glow of one of the streetlights, is a fairly regular sized house, its red-bricks tinged and its door an aggressive kind of blue. This is Tom's house isn't it? I try and spin round in order to see the street sign but I am too drunk and it is too dark and too far away and I almost fall over. It's Tom's house- It definitely is, I tell myself.

Alcohol clouds my brain as I climb the gate, staggering up the path. I go to turn the handle, but it's locked, of course it is, it's the middle of the night, I seem to have forgotten that. I almost give up, let myself slide down the door and onto the concrete step. Let myself sleep there amongst nature and freeze there like the poor little matchsticks girl. I seem to get melodramatic about things when I'm drunk. I'm discovering all kinds of new things tonight. I've been drunk before of course- all through my teenage years- but back then I was young and reckless right now I'm in a place in my life where I like to think. And yet that access to thought is simultaneously ruining my life.

I go to sit down, when I notice a little crack in the panel of the window, it seems to stick out from itself, stretching further than its usual two dimensional boundaries. I stand and look at it for a while, trying to get my smog-filled head around how such a thing can exist. It begins to rain slightly, the wind whipping it around and throwing it into my face. Then something clicks in my mind, like putting in the last piece of a jigsaw puzzle. The window is open. Of course, I knew that.

I amble over, accidentally knocking over a plant pot, I don't think it's cracked, it might be, I can't see properly. The fun bit of drinking seems to have worn off, the only part left being the haze and the tiredness. I pull at the window, opening it fully and place my palms firmly on the windowsill. I try and pull myself up and launch myself into the room but my arms feel weak. I sigh, simple tasks seem to take momentous effort.

I fall head first, my arms slamming into the (thankfully) carpeted floor just in time to protect my mind, or what little is left of it. I groan, rolling over and letting myself look at the ceiling. There are no stars there. Why are there no stars there? I'm inside. I know these things. I really do.

The light from the streetlight outside shines in, unearthing the walls and revealing the pictures on the wall. The walls appear to be a pastel blue colour, littered with wooden photo frames, with happy families smiling out of them. I look over them, the edges a little blurry. I tilt my head, I don't remember Tom having a sister? And yet there she is, slowly aging as the pictures go on. I shake it out of my head.

I am still on the floor, but I don't want to get up, I just want to lie here, the sofa seems so far away and the carpet seems so soft. I hear clatter of tiny paws upon the lino floor, their feet slipping and sliding as their claws try and get a grip. Wait, their? As in two? The kittens bound through the door, the clink of their claws on the floor like little bells. Their legs bound towards me, climbing over my legs and stomach, their claws digging in enough that the pain gets past the numb of alcohol. I pick them up, placing them down beside me, and sit up, crawling over to the sofa and heave myself up. Two kittens? I could have sworn Tom only has one cat, and he's old isn't he? I rack my brains but it's just layers of tiredness.

I re-arrange the cushions, lying my head down and kicking off my shoes. Except I can't sleep. After all that I can't sleep. I'm too uncomfortable, the cats are staring at me, the label on my t-shirt is scratching my neck, and my hair is slightly wet from the rain. I twist and turn, constantly conscious of the squeaking sofa. I sigh in frustration, making one of the cats jump awake. "It's nothing." I huff, I have no idea why I feel the need to explain this to a cat. I sit up, pulling my shirt over my head, instantly feeling more comfortable. No more label tickling my neck. I flutter in and out of consciousness, the darkness coming and going but I just want it to take me. Eventually I fall asleep, my final thoughts of bright lights and stars.

I awaken with a jolt, my eyes flashing open and immediately burning, the bright light smouldering into my corneas. I whimper a little, my hands darting to my eyes as a reflex action. "So you're awake now, then?" I hear, the voice glowing with smugness. I say nothing, my hands are still covering my eyes and yet the light is still finding its way through the cracks, my eyes are burning along with my head. "Oh, and who are you, by the way?" I take my hands down, letting the light burn my eyes, this seems more important. My mouth hangs open, the man stood in front of me is not Tom, not by a long shot. Tom has sandy blonde hair and brown eyes, he's relatively small, with a muscular figure. This man is tall, taller even than me perhaps, a lot of his face covered by a floppy black fringe, its colour shining out against his pale complexion. He is skinny and lean, his face formed into a half kind of smirk as he looks down on me. But his eyes, his eyes are the thing I notice, the blue piercing through the greyness of morning. I suddenly become very aware of my appearance.

"I'm err Dan." I say, by means of explanation, as if this explains everything. I scan the room for my t-shirt, but every time I move my head it screams in protest. Exactly how much did I drink last night? I sit up, draping my arms across my stomach consciously. "So err Dan, how did you come to be half naked on my couch, exactly?" I blush.  
>"That might be a long story."<br>"I have all the time in the world." And he flashes me that smile again, and it may be stupid and frivolous, but all I want to do is bring that smile closer to me, and kiss those lips. "Then maybe I'll tell you sometime" I say, trying to be flirtatious through the smog of the situation. Phil laughs,  
>"I house you for the night and that's all I get, 'maybe I'll tell you sometime?'" I blush harder but in spite of myself I laugh. "Okay, well what would you suggest?"<br>"Do you want to get coffee?"  
>"I would be enchanted to." I say in a mock fairy-tale voice, subconsciously letting my hands drop from hugging my stomach. "Just let me get dressed."<br>"I'm not taking you out dressed like that." Phil says, running his eyes up and down me. I feign hurt.  
>"I don't have any other clothes."<br>"You can wear some of mine." And with that, he turns on his heel, parading up the stairs, the ghost of a smile still playing across my lips.

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><p><strong><em>Thank you for reading and please review! (My fanfic tumblr is arcticphan btw and then my regular one is drizzleahurricane)<em>**


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